


Christmas Crock

by mandylynn4



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandylynn4/pseuds/mandylynn4





	Christmas Crock

Mandylynn

WARNING: Not betaed. Short, abrupt ending with no rhyme or reason. (read - poorly written)  
Not for those believing in Santa. Otherwise, G rated.

 

It’s true; boarding schools are for the elite few who can afford them. It’s also true that most boarding schools house and educate some of the most brilliant minds in the world. This is mainly due to the strict and structured environments these schools are designed for. However, there are a good many boys and girls who attend boarding schools and leave with brilliant minds, but no good sense to use these organs for good. Instead, they find more “interesting” ways to bide their time.

Ethan Rayne was one of these few. A brilliant mind and a reckless soul – one that could get people hurt in the long run. All of this could have been avoided had that one Christmas been better off. Yes, he could’ve gone off to be the head of the Watcher’s Council – a far better job than simply a watcher, like Ripper had turned out to be. But, alas, that Christmas ruined the wonderment in one small boy. A very young, well-mannered boy of seven who wanted nothing more than to have the magic of Christmas to look forward to…

~*~FLASHBACK~*~

Ethan Rayne, son of one of London’s top business moguls, Mr. Sebastian Rayne, raced up the stairs to his room about to burst from excitement. It was almost Christmas (nine days, twelve hours, fourteen minutes, and thirty-seven seconds to be exact) and he’d just been given a wonderful assignment. He was to write a letter to Santa Claus.

Finally, an assignment that had some meaning to it! He could begin to see the fruits of his labors! For the last two Christmases, the boys at his boarding school had been asked to draw pictures of what they wanted for the holiday or what their favorite thing about the season was. Now, for the first time, he would be able to write to Santa and get some results!

Ethan was tired of getting dress socks or undergarments. He was sick of tiddly-winks and puzzles. He wanted something more this Christmas. He wanted something he could actually enjoy.

So, paper and pen in hand, he slid into his desk and began to write:

Dear Santa,

My name is Ethan Rayne. I live at 24 Hollinbrook Lane in London. I’m writing  
you to let you know some of the things I’m interested in getting this Christmas.  
Don’t be fooled – my parents have obviously been sending letters for me these last  
six years. This truly is me writing and I’d like it for you to disregard any  
other letters you may get from someone who claims to be me. Here are the things  
I would like:

A new boarding mate – mine’s kind of crusty in the nose area  
A dog – the bigger, the better  
A no homework pass signed (or forged) by the headmaster  
Any of the books I saw in the store downtown “Lion’s Den”

I have tried to be as good as possible so that I don’t get coal – who wants that  
anyway? The grownups would just take it and throw it in the fire for themselves.  
Please consider my list and send at least one thing.

Thank you,

Ethan Rayne

He took the envelope with shaky, excited fingers and stuffed the letter inside. He licked it, addressed it to Santa in the North Pole, and went flying back downstairs to hand it in to his teacher.

It was Christmas Eve before he knew it. He had gone home a few days after he’d written that letter so he could spend the holiday with his family. That afternoon, he sat at the kitchen table with his parents’ maid, Wendy, and created dozens upon dozens of sugar cookies in all shapes and sizes. Some were snowflakes, some were stars, some were ornaments, and some were even a likeness of Santa himself. Ethan was sure that with his letter and these cookies, he was going to get the best gifts he’d ever gotten.

He carefully and painstakingly arranged the cookies on a platter, poured milk in a beautiful glass of his mother’s, and set these all out on the coffee table by the fireplace. When he was finished with all of that, Wendy sent him up to bed before his parents had even arrived home from their party. He zoomed up the stairs and flew into bed, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind was going a million miles a minute. It was nearly eleven o’clock before he finally drifted off to sleep.

He was awakened by a sound later that evening. A glance at his alarm clock told him it was half-past two. He opened his eyes and listened hard.

Big, heavy footsteps on the hardwood floors downstairs. Tramping of snow-covered boots on the rug near the fireplace. Rustling of paper and a slight jingle of bells.

Ethan couldn’t resist. He was up out of his bed and down the stairs before he could really think. At the foot of the stairs he waited. He waited to hear what was going on. He waited so he couldn’t get caught. He waited for a tell-tale sign that it was in fact Santa Claus in his parents’ home.

Then, there it was. The click of glass upon ceramic and a slurp as someone took a drink of cool milk. The sound of fingers scrabbling to pick up a cookie from the platter and a tiny crunching sound as that person began eating. Ethan’s little heart soared out of his chest. There really was a Santa Claus!!!

He dared to peek around the front room’s corner for a glimpse. He just had to see the man – he HAD to.

One little brown eye came into focus on a shape in the darkness. A shape that wasn’t exactly what he’d thought of all these years.

It was the shape of his father.

His father was eating Santa’s cookies. His father was drinking Santa’s milk. His father was taking off his snow-covered boots in front of the fireplace to dry out. Meanwhile, his mother came out from the coat closet, her arms full of gifts wrapped in shiny gold paper. She quietly set them around the Christmas tree and arranged them in a most beautiful fashion – in the exact spot where he had found all of his Santa gifts every year before. Then, she plopped down next to her husband and sighed a tiny, withered sigh.

“Sebastian, dear, do you think he’ll like the books we bought him?”

Sebastian set down the glass of milk and put his arm around his wife. “I’m sure he’ll like them fine enough. It’s much better than that rot he wanted anyway.”

“I did go past that shop yesterday, just to see what it was like. It’s a dreadful place. I’m surprised that Headmaster Winchest even let the children pass it.”

Ethan’s eyes filled with tears. How could they? Why? What had he done to deserve this? Even coal was better than this betrayal!

He wanted to scream. He wanted to hit. He wanted to jab hot pokers into something. Instead, he fled up to his room as quietly as he had stolen down from it moments earlier. Once there, he cried himself to sleep.

He vowed never again to write to Santa, not even for a class assignment. Santa was a crock. Family was a crock.

It was ten more agonizing years of holidays with Sebastian and Katherine (whom he never again called dad or mum) and then, he was gone. Just like magic...


End file.
